


Stalk that Jock

by layalee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent, Alive Hale Family, Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alternate Universe - College/University, But not in a creepy way, Derek Smiles, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Lacrosse Player Derek, Light Angst, M/M, Stiles stalks Derek, not really - Freeform, sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/layalee/pseuds/layalee
Summary: All the blood leeches out of Stiles’ face and it turns white as he whirls around to face Scott, clutching his arm in a bruising grip. “Oh God, Scott, I said his name. I said his name. I’m not supposed to know his name.” Stiles clenches his eyes shut and moans painfully. “Now he’ll know I stalk him!”“There there buddy,” Scott replies, patting his arm sympathetically. “At least he looked at you today!” he quips cheerfully.-------In which Stiles stalks Derek and we see their relationship progress through Stiles' multiple attempts to stealthily woo Derek Hale, resident Sourwolf.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! This is my new pet project. Fair warning, I'm writing this as I go but I was too excited to wait and I had to post it now. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters. No copyright infringement intended.

Stiles nervously eyes the door he’s standing down the hall from, anxiously glancing at his watch and back up. “He’s late,” he complains to Scott, who’s standing beside him but mooning at his phone while texting Kira.

“Hmm?” Scott asks, barely glancing up at Stiles. “Oh no man, I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

“But he’s rarely ever laate,” Stiles exclaims.

“Well maybe today is a bad day for him,” Scott says reasonably.

Stiles gasps dramatically. “Don’t _jinx_ it Scott!”

Scott winces apologetically. “Sorry dude,”

“Last time you jinxed it, I ended up not seeing him for a week. A week!” Stiles exclaims.

“A total coincidence,” Scott squeaks.

Stiles rolls his eyes and turns around to continue watching the door vigilantly. “C’mon c’mon c’mon,” he murmurs under his breath.

His hawk-like gaze widens as soon as the door moves an inch. “He’s coming!” he whisper-shouts to Scott, slapping his hand on his friend’s shoulder repeatedly.

“Ow,” Scott complains, reaching up to rub at the place where Stiles hit him.

Stiles ignores him and straightens up, striving to look cool and nonchalant and like he has every logical reason to be in the architecture building when he is a Criminology and Psychology major – hint: he doesn’t.

He rocks nervously on the balls of his feet but tries to school his expression into a neutral one. “One, two, three,” he mutters. “Four, five, six, NOW Scott!”

Scott tucks his phone away and falls into step with Stiles, pretending to be engrossed in conversation. Stiles eyes the door from the corner of his eyes and spots the exact moment that the man of his dreams, the hottest Alpha team member, the #1 person who features in his dreams, wet or otherwise, walks out the door with his pack of friends flanking him.

Stiles times it perfectly so that they cross paths where they can be face to face and Stiles can – discreetly – gawk lovingly at the leather-clad man.

Mustering up all the courage he has ever needed in all of his 20-years of life, Stiles takes a deep breath and looks directly at the object of his desires. “Derek,” Stiles greets, jerking his head up in a bro nod.

Derek Hale, for his part, only gives Stiles weirded-out look as he continues to walk by, eyebrows drawn together in a serial-killer scowl.

All the blood leeches out of Stiles’ face and it turns white as he whirls around to face Scott, clutching his arm in a bruising grip. “Oh God, Scott, I said his name. _I said his name_. I’m not _supposed to know_ his name.” Stiles clenches his eyes shut and moans painfully. “Now he’ll know I stalk him!”

“There there buddy,” Scott replies, patting his arm sympathetically. “At least he looked at you today!” he quips out cheerfully.

The only sound that comes out of Stiles is a pitiful whimper that makes Scott wince.

***

Two days later, Stiles is sitting on a bench in the quad. He’s in disguise, of course – a Mets baseball cap, sunglasses, and a grey hoodie instead of his usual red one. He has an open textbook in front of him and he’s currently peeking up over it at the table located fifty feet from him, under the shade of a large oak tree. On the table are Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd, Cora Hale and, most importantly, Derek Hale. And Stiles is unabashedly staring.

He startles and flails when he hears a loud thud on the table. He look up at the offending textbook that generated the sound and then up to see Lydia Martin, goddess of all goddesses, genius of the mathematics department, and one of his best friends, frowning down at him.

“This is getting tedious, Stiles,” she sighs.

“Shhhh!” Stiles hisses, reaching up to drag her down to sit next to him. “Don’t say my name so loud! He’ll _hear_.”

Lydia rolls her eyes but obligingly settles next to him. For a moment they both turn and glance at the jock table housing three of the most important players on the lacrosse team at Berkeley. Stiles gives out a delighted sigh at the sight of Derek removing his leather jacket, muscles flexing deliciously.

“Stiles,” Lydia says sharply, snapping her fingers in front of his face to draw his attention.

He reluctantly turns away from live, fully-clothed porn to look at her. “What?” he grumbles.

Lydia rolls her eyes again. “When are you going to ask him out?”

Stiles squeaks. “ _Never_!”

Lydia glares at him. “You are _not_ going to pine for the next two years,”

Stiles smiles cheekily. “Who says I’ll stop pining after graduation?”

Lydia’s eyes widen and it amuses Stiles that she has actually underestimated Stiles’ determination to stalk and gawk Derek Hale.

“Stiles!” she reprimands.

He holds up his hands in the surrendering gesture. “Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles.

Lydia glares at him for a moment longer before her expression smooths out into one of worry. “I mean it, Stiles. How long are you going to do this? You’ve memorized his schedule, you wait around corners for hours just to get one glance at him, and you spend at least two of your weekly lunch hours over here at the architecture hangout just to stare at him. How long are you going to keep this up? It’s been months. Just ask him out already. The worst that can happen is that he’d say no.”

Stiles glances away and shrugs. “I don’t know, Lydia.”

She sighs. “Not everyone will be like Heather,”

Stiles winces even as his face hardens; he resolutely refuses to look at Lydia. “You mean not everyone will date me and then turn around and tell me they’d only been dating me to get some practice and to make her ex jealous, and that no one would actually ever want to go out with me for real because I’m a loud-mouth, know-it-all little shit who never knows when to quit?” he growls out bitterly.

Lydia’s face hardens. “Heather was a bitch who didn’t know what she had. Stiles, you’re amazing. It’s her loss that she didn’t see that.”

Stiles sighs, having heard this from Lydia and Scott and Kira and Allison and his dad a dozen times before.

“ _And_ ,” Lydia continues, and Stiles should have known she wasn’t done. “Just because she didn’t see it doesn’t mean someone else won’t. Someone like, say, Derek Hale.”

Stiles huffs out a laugh as he finally looks at her directly. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

Lydia leans towards him to bump her shoulders with his. “Always. So now, stop this pining and formulate a plan to ask him out. Or so help me God, I just might do it for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles doesn't formulate a plan to ask Derek out and instead does a little more of not-stalking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda love this chapter. I hope you do too <3
> 
> There's a flashback and it's between two of these: "-----"

Two days later, Stiles drags a mostly-still-sleeping Scott to Lydia’s apartment off-campus. The security guard just waves them through, having grown used to seeing the pair come in and out at all hours of the day. And sometimes during the night too… Besides, Lydia had put them on her “approved” list. Eventually. After some begging. Nothing that Stiles would voluntarily own up to.

He shushes Scott, who hasn’t let up his complaining about being woken up so early since they left their dorms.

“But I’m tiiired,” he whines.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “We’re going to head to class after this either way, so you were gonna wake up eventually,”

“Eventually is not this early! Besides, didn’t Lydia warn you to stop stalking this guy?”

“I’m not _stalking_ him, geez Scott. I’m merely… frequenting places where I know he’ll be,”

“… That kinda sounds like stalking,”

Stiles shushes him again and anxiously taps his foot against the carpeted floor of the elevator, not wanting to miss Derek’s appearance. He avidly watches the little panel’s numbers go up until they reach the fifth floor.

He pulls Scott along with him as he goes to find Lydia’s apartment. Standing in front of 5B, he knocks on the door, loudly and insistently.

After a minute and 26 seconds – yes, Stiles counted – the door swings open to reveal Lydia in a burgundy silk nightgown and matching robe, looking perfect as usual, minus the death glare she’s directing at them.

"What,” she grounds out flatly, “are you doing here.”

Stiles smiles brightly and pushes his way in. He internally cringes when he sees Lydia’s eyes narrow further at Scott’s cheerful yet sleepy wave.

Lydia rolls her eyes and turns to Stiles for an explanation. “Stiles. Speak. Now.”

Stiles tries his damndest to look innocent. “Can’t we just drop by to visit our lovely, genius friend?”

Lydia’s face darkens as she tightens the sash on her robe. “It’s barely dawn,”

Stiles wracks his brain for about two seconds, trying to come up with an excuse, before he gives up and decides to go with the truth instead.

“So!” he exclaims brightly, “A certain grumpywolf likes to go for runs at ass o’crack in the morning,”

“Really?” Lydia asks, a deadpan expression dominating her face.

Stiles shrugs and suppresses a grin.

“He saw an opportunity and he took it,” Scott laughed, not even bothering to hide his wide smile, as he reaches across Lydia and presents his palm to Stiles for a high five.

Stiles gleefully smacks his own palm to Scott’s. “Bro,”

Lydia sighs loudly, muttering “boys” under her breath, before fixing her glare back on Stiles. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here at 5:49 AM.”

“Right!” So, you know the new tenant across from you in 5A? That’s Laura Hale. Derek’s older sister. Super hot-shot lawyer, very scary. Aaaand Derek likes to stop by here after his runs, my guess is to shower and change, before heading over to his first class.”

Lydia is silent for a long moment. “Do I even want to know how you found all of that out?”

Stiles grins unrepentantly. “Probably not.”

“Definitely not,” Scott pipes up at the same time.

Lydia leaves them by the front door as she whirls around and heads towards her kitchen. “I need coffee for this.”

“Ooooh, can you pour me a cup too?”

Scott’s mouth drops at Stiles’ bravado. “Dude.”

***

Stiles rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet while simultaneously keeping one wide eye trained on the peephole of Lydia’s door. He’s studiously watching the outside of Laura Hale’s apartment door, waiting for her demigod of a brother to show up.

Stiles lets his mind wander, beyond the soft snoring sounds of Scott sleeping on Lydia’s couch, beyond the sound of Lydia’s shower running. He flashes back to the first time he’d seen Derek Hale…

\-----

It’s the second day after spring break in sophomore year and the professors are already trying to punish their students. It’s like they resent them for having fun. Stiles is already knee-deep buried in work, but even so, he kinda loves it. He’s the master of research and essay-writing and his naturally inquisitive nature helps him excel in his criminology courses.

So it’s the second day after spring break and Stiles is walking across the quad, laden down with heavy books. The smell of old paper wafts up and he breathes in deep, enjoying the warm, fuzzy way it makes him feel.

He has seven minutes to get to his class across the quad and his legs are already burning from the exertion of walking quickly whilst also supporting the heavy weight of the books. He’s making a list of what he has to do tonight after class, his head jumping from one thought to another, when suddenly –

He hears a deep, joyous laugh that makes his toes curl in his converse and warmth to spread in his chest. Stiles stumbles to a stop and whips his head around to pinpoint the exact source of the laugh. His eyes hone in on two people standing in the shade of a large oak tree about 50 feet away from Stiles, a golden retriever by their side.

The guy who had made that delicious sound is still laughing as he crouches down to fondly ruffle the dog’s head. The dog, for his part, looks extremely content, eyes halfway closed and tongue lolling out happily. Stiles would be content too if he had that fine specimen of a man rubbing his head.

Stiles doesn’t recognize him – he would remember, oh boy would he remember – but he identifies the girl next to him as Cora Hale. Stiles’ eyes are glued to the man next to her and he notes the striking resemblance between the two. He’s tall – well over six feet – and his muscles are straining against his black leather jacket. His dark hair is a pleasant contrast to his complexion and from this distance, Stiles can’t tell the color of his eyes but that doesn’t matter, because the man’s eyes are crinkled at the corners and he’s smiling so wide, Stiles feels happy just looking at him.

Stiles can’t stop staring. He’s mesmerized. He’s absolutely fucking mesmerized.

\-----

Stiles rushes to Danny dorm room after his criminology class. He bursts in – knocking is overrated anyways – and heaves in big, gulping breaths, hands braced on his knees. Danny, for his part, looks up from his position behind his work desk with mild alarm.

“Stiles?”

“Just,” big gulp of air, “one” a wheeze, “second.”

Danny waits, eyes tracking Stiles worriedly. After a few seconds, Stiles straightens up and flashes an unnaturally bright smile at Danny.

“Danny, Danny m’boy,” he starts cheerfully.

The groan Danny immediately emits offends him. It offends him dearly. But fear not! Stiles will not be deterred. He walks further into the room and snags the extra chair next to Danny, sitting with his chest to the back of the seat. Danny eyes him warily.

“Sooo, Danny boy, remember when I helped you get out of that parking ticket junior year of high school back in good ol’ Beacon Hills?”

Danny looks appalled. Stiles grins manically. “Time for a little, teeny weeny hack, don’t you think?”

“That’s illegal, Stiles!”

“Not completely illegal!” Stiles defends. “Maybe a teeny, little bit frowned upon,”

“Your father’s a _sheriff_!”

“Which is why he’ll never find out about this,” Stiles reasons soothingly.

Danny just groans again.

“Now,” Stiles pipes up cheerfully, rubbing his hands together like a villain from a movie, “Any chance Cora Hale has a brother…?”

\-----

Stiles feels butterflies in his stomach as the time approaches 6:15 AM, which should be right around the time Derek will arrive at his sister’s. His eyes widen as Derek comes into view from the peephole, and Stiles internally groans at only being able to see him through the lackluster glass. He simultaneously gives a deep sigh of appreciation as he sees Derek’s muscles ripple under his tight t-shirt, his shorts riding sinuously low on his hips and sweat glistening on his face.

He almost moans obscenely when Derek crouches down to remove a key from under the doormat, the jock’s ass deliciously tantalizing in front of Stiles. It’s like a starving man is shown a feast and then promptly told he can’t have any food.        

Stiles is _hungry_.

He raptly watches as Derek straightens up and inserts the key, unlocking the door. It’s only a moment later that Derek suddenly whips his head around to stare intensely at 5B’s door. Stiles squeaks and slaps a hand over his mouth. He watches with panic and a rapidly-beating heart as Derek continues to look at the door with suspicion – and God dammit, those multicolored eyes get him _every time,_ it’s like looking into the heart of the goddamned universe –, before furrowing his brows and turning back around to enter the apartment, gently letting the door close behind him.

Stiles stares out of the peephole for a beat longer before turning around and leaning his back against the door. He looks dreamily at Scott, who’s sitting up on the couch and blearily rubbing at his eyes, fantasizing about licking all of Derek’s delicious muscles.

“Worth it?” Scott asks around a yawn.

Stiles sighs wistfully. “Definitely.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just to make it clear, the flashback includes Stiles walking with his books in the quad AND him going to visit Danny. It's not heavily implied here, but Danny does his hacking magic and gets Derek's schedule for Stiles.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a run-in with Derek at a lacrosse game. Will he be content to watch from afar, or will he actually gather up the courage to strike up a conversation with Derek?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on updating this soon (I actually didn't have anything written up) then BAM, in the middle of class, my muse nudges me and I whip out a piece of paper and write down half of the chapter. 
> 
> I admit, pretty much all of my knowledge about lacrosse comes from Teen Wolf, so bear with me.

Stiles is sitting on his bed in his shared room with Scott, watching the other man with an amused expression. Scott, who’s currently packing some new lacrosse gear into his gym bag, has been bouncing up and down with joy ever since the final list of first and second strings was posted in the lacrosse locker rooms that morning.

“Coach said I could play first string! Isn’t that amazing?” Scott repeats for what must at least be the fifteenth time.

Kira is leaning against the wall by the door, still in her fencing gear. She’s smiling brightly at Scott, but Stiles notices the worry in her eyes. He looks back and forth between the pair, and when Kira’s eyes catch his and her smile wanes, understanding dawns on him. He leans forward to grab Scott’s inhaler from the other man’s nightstand and throws it at Scott.

“Don’t forget to pack your inhaler,” Stiles says quietly.

Scott catches his inhaler, drops it three inches, flails, and catches it again before it hits the ground. He straightens up and gives Stiles a 1000-watt grin. “Thanks man! What would I do without you?”

Stiles smirks. “Die from withdrawal of sarcasm, wit, and random facts you never really wanted to know,”

Scott nods enthusiastically, like the puppy he is. Stiles catches Kira’s eyes again and gives her a wink, beaming when she directs a grateful smile at him.

***

It’s the night of the big game and Stiles is almost as excited as Scott is. He’s not on the lacrosse team – although he briefly considered joining in an attempt to get closer to Derek, but he quickly dismissed that idea when he realized how creepy it would seem. Stiles gave up lacrosse when he got into college and took up cross-country instead. There’s something about the freedom of running, leaving everything behind you, and blending seamlessly into nature that lacrosse just couldn’t do for him.

Nevertheless, Stiles is excited, and not just because Scott is playing first string.

Of course, Scott doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m here to support you man!” Stiles yells, fighting to be heard over the mass of screaming crowd behind him on the bleachers. The field is full of viewers and players alike, and excitement is thrumming in the air. It’s going to be a good night.

Scott rolls his eyes while he adjusts his helmet. “You’re here to ogle your crush,”

Stiles gapes indignantly. “Blasphemy!”

Scott chuckles, gives Stiles bro fist bump, and jogs off to join his team members.

Stiles grins after him for a moment, before his gaze drifts and lingers on #4. He sighs. Derek Hale, captain of the Berkeley Alphas. Not only is he one of the top architectural students in the university, but he’s an excellent captain who has already led the team to more consecutive wins that the last few years have witnessed.

Stiles admires his dedication and the work he’s done to improve the team. And he _really_ admires Derek’s cute butt in those lacrosse pants.

Stiles looks forlornly at Derek before turning around and making his way up the bleachers, where Kira and Lydia have saved a seat for him.

***

Stiles is right, it _does_  turn out to be a good night. The Alphas crush the other team and the energy is high in the field as the final whistle was sounded. The crowd stands up with a deafening roar as everyone whoops and cheers. The Berkeley team members on the field are sporting large smiles behind their helmets and Derek Hale is currently being hoisted up on Boyd’s and Isaac’s shoulders. He _did_ make the winning shot after all, with a fantastic assist from Scott.

Stiles quickly makes his way down the bleachers, weaving through the crowds, with Kira at his heel. Scott comes running up to them as soon as he catches sight of them, scooping Kira up in a hug and twirling her around, laughing loudly the whole time. The pair soon start kissing passionately and Stiles rolls his eyes and looks away, huffing a laugh despite himself.

His eyes zoom in on Derek, who’s removed his helmet and is currently sweeping a hand through his hair, grinning sheepishly at who looks for be – from the extreme resemblance and maybe from his not-stalking – his mother congratulating him. Stiles keeps his eyes on the pair and ignores the sounds of the crowd around him; he’s too intent on the scene in front of him. Derek suddenly lunges forward and drags his mother into a tight hug, and even from this distance, Stiles can see the tears in Mrs. Hale’s eyes. His heart warms up. A good student, a good player, _and_ a good son. God, could Hale be any more out of his league?

He watches as Derek nods enthusiastically at his mother and begrudgingly accepts a head rub from his sister Laura, whom Stiles just notices has been standing beside them all along. The two women turn and head towards the parking lot and Derek is left standing there, momentarily alone.

Stiles stands awkwardly there, aware that this might be his one golden chance to go up to Derek and actually have a conversation with him. He resists the urge to look for the quickest escape route when Derek suddenly looks his way and locks eyes with him. Stiles’ heart thunders in his chest as he nervously makes his way over to the Alpha captain.

When he’s three feet away, he stops and smiles hesitantly at Derek. “Congratulations. That was one hell of a shot,”

Derek’s looking directly at him and gosh, Stiles can’t handle all of that multicolored masterwork focused on him all at once. He discreetly rubs his sweaty palms on his pants and hopes Derek doesn’t notice his thundering pulse, fluttering at the base of his throat.

Derek stands there, helmet in hand, sweat glistening on his forehead, and a wide smile breaks on his face. Stiles’ breath hitches.

“Thanks! It was McCall’s assist that made it possible,”

Stiles feels pride for his friend swell up in his chest. “Yeah, Scottie’s awesome,”

Derek looks at him curiously. “You’re his friend, right? Stiles?”

Stiles’ jaw drops open. “You know who I am?”

Derek throws his head back and laughs, not unkindly, his throat exposed and Stiles wants to _bite_.

The jock is still chuckling when he looks back at Stiles. “McCall talks about you. More than he talks about his girlfriend, I think,” he explains, amusement coloring his voice.

Stiles laughs fondly. “That’s Scottie for you.”

Derek eyes him, _some_ thing in his eyes, and raises his hand to scratch at the base of his skull. He looks so endearing and bashful that Stiles just _can’t_.

“Fuck,” he whimpers.

Derek cocks his head adorably. “Sorry?”

Stiles’ eyes widen. He said that out loud. “I, uh, mean, suck. The other team sucked,”

Derek lets out a laugh that makes Stiles’ spine tingle in delight. It’s that same laugh, that same fucking laugh that keeps drawing him back in.

“Nah,” he says modestly, “They played well. We were just more well-prepared and worked cohesively together. We really have a great team this season,”

Stiles nods along, mesmerized. Derek could be talking about plumbing and Stiles would still latch onto every word coming out of his mouth.

Someone calls out Derek’s name loudly and it snaps him out of his reverie. The other man gives him an apologetic look. “I gotta run, but it was nice to finally meet you,” he says almost gruffly.

Stiles resists the urge to break into a celebratory dance and instead manages to softly murmur, “Likewise,”

Derek gives him a firm nod before turning around and jogging away. Stiles stands there like an idiot, looking at Derek’s form until he can no longer see him, and then he looks some more.           

Later, Scott has to lead him by the hand to their room because Stiles is too dazed to even think about where he’s going.  

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a line, make me smile ;)


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